Long Journey Home
by Zivon96
Summary: Sequel to The Last Stand. With the fall of the Warborn Union at the Battle of Fort Sigrun, the Blackstone Legion begins their return to Ashfeld. However, the remnants of the Union still live, and though their leaders have fallen, they are dedicated to freeing their comrades and rebuilding their order. The chill of winter is fading, but with the end of winter, the wolves awaken.
1. Layla I

Layla I

The flames consumed Fort Sigrun, the members of the Blackstone Legion watching as the fortress burned before them. The Warnorn Union's flag burned atop the fortress, Layla's eyes following the burning banner as it fell to the ground, quickly being reduced to ashes by the flames. She could only watch from the shadows cast by the mountainous environment of Fort Sigrun as the place she and so many others had called home for so long burned before her eyes.

Layla, a Union peacekeeper, physically felt her heart sink as she watched other members of the Union turn away from the blaze of their fortress. In her mind, several questions burned, demanding answers. Could they have been saved if she and the rest of the Union had just been a bit quicker? How many survived and how many had been killed? How long before the survivors were executed? Could they be saved? She turned to face her comrade in arms, Hilde, a Union valkyrie, only to find that she too had her eyes locked on the pillar of flame sent into the sky by the burning fortress, and the prisoners being led away in chains.

Though all these thoughts flew about in her mind, none of them could be said aloud as guilt wracked her mind. Their regiment of the Warborn Union's army had been sent out under the leadership of Magnus' second and Godric's lieutenant, Leif Ulfric, and Arthur Rowan, in order to end a coup by the Helfire clan backed by the Blackstone Legion in eastern Valkenheim. When they had received the message saying the Blackstones were marching toward Fort Sigrun, Leif and Arthur came to an agreement for the first time in their entire campaign: they needed to return at once. The army had set out on a forced march from the east and had only hours prior arrived within range of the fortress. Knowing that they were not likely to have beaten the Blackstones to the fort, Arthur had ordered her and Hilde to scout out the situation and report back once they had seen the state of the battle and the enemy force. Upon arrival, however, Layla and Hilde were appalled to discover that the battle had ended, and that their side had been not only defeated, but nearly wiped out.

Looking out over the Blackstone Legion, she could easily spot the man responsible for the defeat of the Warborn Union.

Sitting atop his horse in the midst of the Blackstone forces war Aryen Diamond, his left arm held in a sling around his neck. Layla almost felt a perverse sense of joy at the sight of his wound, as well as the sight of what appeared to be a large amount of his own blood covering his orange and black tabard, staining the garment red, even as he tried to hide his condition from the world with a fur cloak wrapped around his shoulders. The warden's head was bare, his badly dented and desecrated helm was strung to the saddle of his horse, the once proud wolf that adorned it now barely a shadow of what it once was, the helm baring a dent on its crown that, the peacekeeper assumed, could only come from the halberd of Godric. At least her commander had likely died fighting rather than being executed as a 'sheep.'

Layla held back tears at the thought of her commander being killed. She and Arthur had been soldiers in the Blackstone Legion, serving under Godric during the Valkenheim campaign. Just like him, they had seen the injustice in what had been done on the campaign against the Vikings and had left when the lawbringer announced his intentions to abandon the Legion. She had always seen Godric as an inspiration to her, a skilled warrior fighting for what he deemed to be the greater good. A man dedicated to protecting the innocent at any cost. He had joined the Blackstone Legion to drive the vikings out of Ashfeld and protect her citizens, she and Arthur following him to the Blackstones' ranks from the ranks of the rapidly declining Oaken Legion. With many of its finer warriors abandoning their forces, the Oaken Legion disbanded, its remaining members following Godric as he joined the Blackstone Legion.

It was after the Valkenheim campaign that Godric had made his intentions to leave the Blackstone Legion clear to all his soldiers. As she and Arthur had been with him since the Oaken Legion, they were the first to follow him in his desertion, followed quickly by the remainder of the former Oaken soldiers, and finally those Blackstone soldiers who had joined Godric when he assumed command of his forces. Under the cover of darkness, Layla had scouted out and cleared a path for Godric, Arthur and the rest of the Legion to escape by. They were assigned as the rear guard on the retreat from Valkenheim, so no one noticed the missing unit until the morning when the retreating Blackstones were hit by a surprise raid from angry vikings. Meanwhile, led by Godric, the Blackstone deserters fled into the mountains of Valkenheim.

With the attack by the vikings, many among the Blackstone Legion likely thought Godric and his band dead, not believing that their comrades would desert the army and leave them open to an attack by the Barbarians. Thus, the deserters managed to avoid their former comrades in arms for quite some time, however, it wouldn't be long before their dwindling food supplies began to run low. Hunting game and scavenging managed to keep them alive for a matter of months, but it was not long before some began to die, falling to starvation or the elements. Valkenheim was inhospitable in its winter months, and since winter was when the invasion began, the cold killed many. To make matters worse, a small army of knights in the territory of the vikings they had once waged war on were far from inconspicuous, and they were soon tracked down by the rapidly rising Warborn clan under one of their warlords, Magnus the Bear Eater. Knowing his forces were in no condition to fight a force numerically superior to their own, Godric had attempted to make a deal with Magnus, offering his life, as a Blackstone commander, for the safety of his soldiers, explaining to Magnus that through over a month in Valkenheim's winter, his knights were in no condition to fight. He offered his own life, as well as the vow that none of his men would strike out at Valkenheim, in order to ensure their safety. Layla had to practically hold Arthur back as Godric made his offer, as he was devastated by the fact that his mentor was about to give his own life.

However, if Godric believed his time was at an end, he would be mistaken. Magnus, being a generous and honourable man, had spoken to Godric personally, after bringing him back to his fortress, Fort Sigrun. Layla and Arthur had waited outside the fortress in a makeshift camp with their fellow knights as their leader discussed the terms of what would likely be his own execution, and she hoped, not theirs. In the end, it came as a shock to her that not only had Godric not been killed, but they were being offered an alliance. Godric had come to his troops and gathered them all together before making his offer: any who wanted to join with the viking clan and fight the Blackstone Legion were welcome to join, and those who wished to leave Valkenheim were welcome to do so, and would be granted safe passage back to Ashfeld. It was made clear that they would not be part of the vikings' army, but would guard the border of Valkenheim from all Blackstone invaders. To her surprise, not a single knight declined Godric's offer, all the former wolves standing alongside their pack leader, even if it meant going against the rest of the pack, and the alpha.

Layla could clearly remember her first day of being part of what had become the Warborn Union. After discussions with both Magnus and the Warborn Jarl Stigandr, Godric had convinced them to allow the Union to not only exist, but to be its own autonomous body not controlled directly by the Warborn clan, but allied with them. Magnus, seeking to gain a reputation for himself and his family beyond the confines of what could be gained as a member of the clan, supported Godric's claim, stating that he would personally add his own forces to the Union and keep watch over the knights to ensure their loyalty. In an attempt to prove his loyalty to those he had once fought against, Godric shed his armour, offered his halberd to Stigandr and bowed to the man, swearing to never raise his weapon against Valkenheim. In response to this gesture, Stigandr had laughed, saying that he wasn't sure whether Godric was dedicated to his stated cause, or simply mad. With Magnus' urging, Stigandr had seen fit to grant them their independence from the Warborn clan, on the condition of an alliance between the two bodies. And thus, the Warborn Union was born.

Of course, tensions initially ran high between the knights and vikings. The vikings were well known to have raided Ashfeld's cities and monasteries on many an occasion, and on their campaign in Valkenheim, the knights of the Blackstone Legion had slaughtered many Vikings. However, through many missions together, they had grown close. Layla herself had been paired up with Hilde early on in the Union's existence, and the two had been near inseparable ever since, the finest scouts and trackers in the Union and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Not only were they comrades, but also friends, as the two spoke often and supped together on many occasions, usually sharing a tent on campaign. While the two got along famously, no one could be sure as to why this was the case, as the two could not have been more different. Layla was a small woman, petite and thin, with a head of blonde hair that ended just below her neck, while Hilde was near as tall as Godric, standing just a few inches shy of six feet, and was heavily muscled from years of training with her spear. Her image was completed by the lengthy braid of red hair that ran down to her mid back. Then there were their attitudes, Layla being largely a quiet woman, something that served her well as an assassin, while Hilde, when not tracking, could talk up a storm. But still, the two got along famously their entire time in the Union's ranks.

"We're done here."

The order snapped Layla out of her thoughts as she turned her attention back to the Blackstone Legion. It was Aryen who had given the order, as the Legion began to pull back from the fortress, a line of prisoners chained together followed behind them, some screaming in sorrow or rage, some sobbing to themselves, others were swearing vengeance against the forces of the Legion, while others still remained silent and contemplative.

"Prisoners." Layla noted softly. "So some did survive."

"Not for long." Hilde added. "You and I both know what the Blackstones do to their prisoners."

Layla nodded grimly. "We'll need to make a plan to rescue… them…" She trailed off as she spoke, the Blackstone Legion filing out in an organized column. As the soldiers began to pass, Layla's eyes were drawn to what stood behind them. A safe distance from the fortress were three large mounds of earth, each one having a marker placed above it. What caused Layla's silence was just what those markers were. The mounds were marked with weapons. A samurai nodachi, Magnus' ancient longsword, and most jarring to her, Godric's halberd, the once proud weapon now standing with its head buried in the earth. It was obvious what these weapons were meant to mark, and it shook her to think that her once glorious knight commander now lay dead in this shallow grave alongside his brother in arms.

The peacekeeper took a shuddering breath as she held back her tears. Next to her, Hilde shook in rage as she gripped her spear so tightly Layla worried the weapon might snap. Steeling herself, Layla unholstered her crossbow and began to pull back the bowstring, eyes locked on the unhelmeted head of Aryen Diamond.

Hilde grabbed her wrist roughly. "What do you think you're doing?" She hissed.

Layla jerked her limb from the valkyrie's grasp and gestured to the Blackstone army. "All I need is one shot. Aryen doesn't have his helmet, I can end this right here."

"If you really believe that, then you're not the wise woman I've known all this time." Hilde replied. "Let's suppose you can hit Aryen from here, what then?"

"Then he dies and Godric and Magnus are avenged!" Layla spat.

"And then what? We die, and the Blackstones, led by a new commander, continue down this path. And just what is further down this path, I ask you?"

Behind her helmet, Layla paled. "Leif and Arthur!" She realized. "The Union's camp is just a matter of hours journey up the path!"

"And if we leave now, we can get to the camp and order a retreat." Hilde said. "I hope to be in Valhalla someday as much as you hope to be in heaven, but right now, we need to ensure that we survive so that our companions might live as well. Now come, the horses are just up the path. If we leave now, we can reach them before the Blackstones discover them."

Layla sighed. She knew Hilde was right. Arthur, Leif and their forces were strong, but not strong enough to take on an army this size, especially not when it took them by surprise. Forcing back tears just one more time, Layla cast her eyes back to Godric and Magnus' graves. "May heaven welcome you with open arms." She said softly, voice cracking from emotion.

With a herculean effort, Layla turned from the three shallow graves, though the image of the weapons planted in the ground above the corpse of the man she called a commander, mentor and friend would forever be burned into her mind. Even as she mounted her horse and rode towards camp, the sight of the sun setting behind the burning fort would be all she saw. That, and the flames of the inferno illuminating Godric's halberd, the shadow of the weapon cast across the ground like. As the sun sank behind the mountain, Layla shook those thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time for those thoughts. She needed to be focused, lest all that remained of the Union face the fate of Godric and Magnus.


	2. Leif I

Leif I

Leif gripped his axe as he watched Arthur organize the troops. The Blackstone Legion had certainly already reached Fort Sigrun, and despite the fact that they were about to take the enemy likely completely by surprise, Arthur had insisted that they send in the scouts first. It made the raider restless knowing their enemy was just ahead, but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that Arthur was right. And that just made him even angrier.

Leif knew that their army numbered three hundred strong, the only amount needed for the mission they were on at the time, as they were meeting with reinforcements. However, knowing that the Blackstones numbered in the thousands, they needed to strike at the right time, lest they do little more than irritate the Legion as they are cut down to the man. To that end, Arthur had sent Layla and Hilde to scout the enemy's numbers and position, and they were now preparing and readying themselves for the response.

The raider watched as Arthur, on horseback, lance in hand, cantered among the ranks of the Union's soldiers, ensuring each knight was ready to charge, and that their vikings were ready to follow the cavalry charge. As much as Leif was annoyed by Arthur's hesitation, he could hardly judge his strategies in battle. He had watched once as Arthur drove an army twice their size into the sea with just a few well placed strokes, and while he often thought that the planning stage took too long, he could often be impressed with the results. However, often did not mean always, and the raider often thought the warden's strategies were gaudy and unnecessary. Often he would watch as Arthur formed an elaborate idea of how to remove an enemy outpost when Leif could easily have led his troops in, removed the enemy and stomped on his corpse in a matter of minutes.

The viking growled. He knew the Blackstones had already arrived, Arthur knew it, they had the advantage of surprise, he could see the smoke of battle over the mountains, the fort must have already been under siege. And yet, here they were, ready as they would ever be to strike, morale at an alltime high as they raced to save their friends and comrades, and instead of taking the chance they had, they were waiting for the news that the battle had indeed started.

The sound of hooves in the snow of the mountain drew Leif's attention to the approach of Arthur as the knight dismounted his horse next to him. "The men are ready, all we're waiting for is the report by Hilde and Layla."

Leif scoffed. "Looks to me like they've been ready for quite some time before you deigned to check the straps on their armour. I hope the inspection was worth it."

Arthur sighed in annoyance. "If you had been paying attention, old friend, you would have heard that I was explaining a strategy to the men, rather than simply 'checking the straps on their armour,' as you so eloquently put it."

"Ah, another one of Arthur's famous plans." Leif said, making a grand sweeping gesture with his arms outstretched. "Well then, by all means, do tell, what do you have in mind?"

The warden gestured to the currently mounted knights, each one bearing a lance and shield. "We start with a cavalry charge to their rear, break their flanks and get them to focus on our forces. Once we have them committed, we lead them back into the mountain path, and this is where you and your forces come in." Arthur said, gesturing down the path towards the fort. "A little up the path, there's a valley ringed on either side by rock formations. You and your men will hide amongst the rocks until we have them in the valley, and then you charge. Hopefully, if there are enough men remaining at the fort, once the Blackstones have committed to facing us, Godric and Magnus will be able to charge and we'll flank them. By the end of the day, if all goes according to plan, we'll have the Blackstones captured or routed."

"An impressive strategy, to be sure," Leif sighed. "But how many will die before we can execute it? As much as I respect your strategic mind, Arthur, you and I can both see the smoke rising from atop the hill. That's Fort Sigrun! The battle has already begun, and we're not even there yet. Godric and Magnus could be fighting for their lives, for all we know!"

"You think I don't realize this?" Arthur shot back. "You don't think every knight and viking in our force knows that the ones we love are in imminent danger? As much as I want to rush into that battle, sword raised high, I can't just order these men to their deaths because I want to save Godric."

Leif growled. As much as he hated to admit it, the knight was right. He was under no illusion that they had anything close to an advantage in this fight. The Blackstones certainly held numbers over them. But the Legion had their backs against the wall, even Arthur had to see that. One good charge might have been all they needed to break the siege, but he wasn't taking it! The viking was about to make his criticisms known, when the sounds of approaching feet drew his attention. "Sirs!" A captain called. "Layla and Hilde have returned!"

"Thank you captain." Arthur said with a nod. "Bring them here."

The man nodded and rushed off, Leif and Arthur bracing themselves for the news, the viking gripping his axe and the knight remounting his horse. Both were ready to put their plan into action as soon as they knew the state of the battle.

It wasn't long before the peacekeeper and valkyrie arrived, each one leading their horse behind them, the reins in one hand and their helmets in the other. Layla's sword and dagger were sheathed at her belt, while Hilde's spear was mounted to the saddle of her horse. One look at the two immediately told Leif they hadn't come bearing good tidings. Both were out of breath, wild eyed, and appeared to have driven their horses as hard as they could until they had arrived. On top of this, Layla's face was tinted red, as were her normally electric blue eyes, as though tears had freshly been shed. Hilde looked better, but not by much. Her green eyes were trained on the ground and her expression was of someone who had just been struck, hard. Leif was slightly hesitant, but he needed to know. "Report." He ordered.

Layla began to speak up, but seemingly choked on the words. Hilde breathed deeply before putting a hand on the peacekeeper's shoulder and gently pulling her back. Stepping forward, she looked Leif right in the eye and took a deep breath. "Leif, I… We've failed, Leif. The battle is over. The Union has fallen."

Leif almost dropped his axe. "What?" He whispered, near in shock. "How could this have happened?"

"Godric and Magnus are dead." Hilde continued, either not noticing or ignoring his question, her words just piling more weight onto Leif's shoulders. "Burried in shallow graves outside the fort. The fort…"

"They burned it down." Layla said, picking up as Hilde struggled to keep talking. "We arrived just as the Blackstones put Fort Sigrun to the torch."

"How could this have happened?" Arthur whispered, incredulous. "We moved our forces as quickly as we could, we should have arrived before the battle ended, how could we have failed?"

"And we need to move again." Hilde continued. "Marshall our forces and get them out of here, the Blackstone Legion is taking this path, and they have more than enough troops to wipe us out."

"Then let them come." Leif said, taking his axe in both hands. "Those bastards want to eliminate the Union, then they can do it properly. We'll meet them on the field and crush them."

"Are you mad?" Arthur demanded. "Layla, Hilde, how many do the Blackstones have left? Even if the battle ended that quickly, they can't have come out unscathed."

"They looked to have just over five thousand men." Layla said.

"We have not even a tenth of that!" Arthur spat, sliding off his horse and stomping forward to meet Leif face to face. The knight tore the helmet from his head and threw it to the snow covered ground, revealing his face to Leif. The knight was near clean shaven, the last few days of forced march leaving him with an even layer of brown stubble across his jaw and upper lip, his brown hair being cut just lower than the nape of his neck, hanging just above his green eyes. His face, a face many thought was beautiful, with defined cheekbones and eyes many women would call his best feature, was now twisted in an expression of sheer rage, an expression that Leif seldom saw cross his face. "Just how badly do you want to reach Valhalla?" The knight asked, jamming a finger in the viking's bare chest, catching the man off guard with the force. "Because you'll be there, along with all our men, by the end of the night if we engage the Blackstones now."

Arthur glared up at the raider, but he simply looked back through the eyes of his helmet, the image of a human skull carved into the face. Leif calmly reached up and pulled the helm from his head, shaking loose his long brown hair, matched in length by his braided beard, reaching his shoulders and breastbone respectively. Shaking the hair out of his bright blue eyes, he locked them on Arthur's green orbs, the cold rage of the northern beast being felt, not heard. He dropped his helm into the snow next to the knight's. "If it means living up to the standard of the man those monsters murdered, then I'll see Valhalla today." He said, just softly enough to ensure that Arthur, Layla and Hilde all heard him. "Even for all your cowardice, excuse me, wisdom, I thought you might care that your mentor and mine are dead!" Leif spat, his voice growing louder with every word. "I thought you might care that everyone you ever knew at Fort Sigrun is now dead! I thought you might care that the fortress may now lie in ashes! Please, don't let me stand in your way as you leave, knight. I merely thought protecting the innocent might also involve avenging your fallen brothers in arms."

"That's not the point and you know it, Leif!" Arthur spat, gesturing to the battalion that surrounded them. "If there's anyone who wants Aryen Diamond and his Blackstone Legion dead right now, it's me. He murdered the man who taught me everything I know. I want his head on a plate, but we don't have the manpower to take it. With our numbers against theirs, all we can do is kill a few men before their warriors regroup and rout us!"

"And you can't come up with one of your famous strategies to fight them off? You're supposed to be brilliant!"

"With time and planning, maybe I could, but this is an army that dwarfs ours several fold. It would take time that we don't have in order to even begin to plan to defeat them."

"So your plan instead is to simply allow them to leave Valkenheim?" Leif demanded. "Who knows, maybe Aryen will turn himself over to us after his army crosses the border."

Arthur took a breath to steady himself before looking at Leif. "The Warborn Union had clans in Valkenheim sympathetic to our cause. If we ally ourselves with one of them, we stand a better chance at eliminating the Blackstones before they can escape back to Ashfeld. With an army their size, they won't be moving quickly, so we can gather forces, return with a strategy and crush them before they can respond."

"And if they move faster than you expect?" Leif demanded. "Then they'll either catch us and kill us all or they'll escape." Leif shuddered in rage at the thought of the Blackstone Legion escaping his grasp. "Your planning merely delays the inevitable. They'll either kill us or escape. I say strike now while we still hold the element of surprise. How many can we kill before they kill us, I don't know. But more than if we just wait for them to catch us."

"You would throw our entire army to the wolves just for vengeance?"

"What army?" Leif whispered. "We have no army. We have what is left of an army. We fight them now or we fall to an opportunistic viking clan. Without the protection of a warlord, other clans will strike at you and your knights for vengeance, and the rest of us for perceived cowardice." He watched as Arthur's face fell to realization. "Many still remember vividly what the Blackstone Legion did to our people in their attack, and many saw what Magnus did as traitorous, only holding back out of respect for him. With his passing, any protection he offered you dies with him. You will die, your only choice is by who." Leif gestured down the path towards where Fort Sigrun once stood. "Those we all call enemies," He gestured back towards the rest of Valkenheim. "Or those we called friends."

Leif watched as Arthur's expression fell further. The knight had to know that what he said was true. Vikings had a long memory and could more than hold a grudge, and they were more than willing to express their displeasure with those they saw as their enemies, no matter what those enemies may have said or done since. There were many who still saw all knights as Blackstones, and many who were waiting for Magnus himself to turn traitor and lead his Union against the vikings. Many even thought the supposed Blackstone attack on the Union was simply a ploy to attract reinforcements for Magnus' takeover of Valkenheim. One learned a lot from the whisperings they heard as they passed villages in times of war. And much of what he heard he wished he could forget. In truth, there was much he valued about Arthur's companionship over their time in the Union. Though he and the warden often butted heads over the knight's tactics, they always managed to reconcile their differences and accomplish the task asked of them. It was for this reason and with a heavy heart that Leif realized it might be a better idea that they fall to the Blackstone Legion than fall to an attack by those they had worked so hard to benefit.

"Leif," He turned to the source of the voice to see it was Hilde who had spoken. The red haired valkyrie took him by the shoulder and tilted her head slightly upward to look the large raider in the eye. "The enemy draws closer, and our report is not complete. There were survivors from the battle."

The raider's eyes widened, as did Arthur's as they turned as one to face the scouts. "What?" Leif asked, a faint glimmer of hope seeming to be heard in its purest form in the tone of his voice. "Explain."

"It looked like members of the Union managed to survive the battle," Hilde explained. "The Blackstones were leading a large group, likely two hundred strong away from the fort in chains."

"The Blackstone Legion doesn't often take prisoners." Leif mused. "What are they up to?"

"Wolves." Arthur supplied, getting the attention of the group. "When we were in the Legion, Godric, Layla and I saw many vikings being recruited during our campaign in Valkenheim. Anyone who was deemed a wolf by the Legion, usually by Apollyon herself, was conscripted. Anyone else was often killed as sheep."

"They must be trying to weed out the strong in the Union to recruit." Layla concluded. "They can't be planning to bring all the prisoners back to Ashfeld to be judged by Apollyon herself though, that would be insanity."

"They likely don't intend to." Arthur said. "When on campaign, a Blackstone general is considered pack leader. Whoever Aryen decides is worthy of joining the Legion will be conscripted. I imagine the rest will be executed."

"Then we need to rescue our comrades." Leif declared. "Arthur, is there any strategy you can form that can save our comrades?"

"From an army that size with a force like this, not likely." Arthur replied. Leif was about tell the warden to take his chances, when Arthur continued. "Captain!" He called, summoning another knight to his side. "Bring me the map and order our camp be taken down. The Blackstone Legion will be on us in hours, and I'm ordering a full retreat."

The captain gave a quick bow before turning back to camp and marching off to give the order to retreat. Leif was incredulous. "A full retreat? Are you mad? Our men could be dead already and you want to abandon them?"

"No, Leif, I want them rescued, but I can't do that with the numbers and position we have now." The warden explained. "Were we to launch our attack now, the Blackstone Legion would not only execute our brothers and sisters, but would also destroy our remaining forces. We need to stay low for now, let the Legion think they annihilated the Warborn Union. Let them think us dead for now, because that is our advantage."

"And the men and women held hostage by the Legion?" Leif demanded. "How long before they're sent to the headsman's block?" He could hardly believe it, was Arthur really willing to gamble so brazenly with the lives of their comrades in arms? He had to know the danger they risked by just leaving their fellows to their fates. He knew better than any of them the Blackstone Legion's treatment of prisoners.

"It will take them time to separate the wolves from the sheep." Arthur explained. "They will need to be careful, as they let nothing go to waste. No move the Legion takes is an accident, every step they take is calculated precisely. With how many prisoners they took, it will take them time to find the wolves among them. But if we simply launch our attack, they'll execute the prisoners to break our spirits." The warden paused as the captain returned, handing him a rolled map of the region. Arthur nodded and the captain returned to his duties. "Leif," he continued. "I want to save them as badly as you do, but in order to keep them alive, we need to pull back and regroup." He unrolled the map and showed it to Leif, pointing to a fortress only a short distance south from their position on the Via Ferros, a highway constructed by the Iron Legion into Valkenheim. "This fortress here, you know more about Valkenheim than I, could we move our soldiers there for now?"

Leif sighed in resignation. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he knew the knight was not wrong. The prisoners stood a better chance if they concocted a strategy to save them. As much as Arthur's planning could frustrate him, he knew that trying to solve this problem by rushing through it would never succeed. He looked at where Arthur pointed on the map. It was a small, abandoned fortress known as Hrunting, seldom used anymore due to a lack of strategic value. He shook his head. "No one goes to Hrunting, if we went there, the Blackstones would still run us down, it would just take them longer. Here," He said, pointing to a different fortress a day's travel to the north. "The Steeds of the Damned call Fort Morgenstern their home, and they were allies to Magnus. If we plead our case to them, they may even aid us."

Arthur nodded grimly and rolled up the map, placing it in a satchel on his belt. "That will do."

"Then we had best collect our things," Leif concluded. "All of us, before the Blackstones realize the Union is not as broken as they thought."

With a collective nod, Layla and Arthur mounted their horses once again and set off for their tents. Leif, however, hesitated, eyes locked on the ground.

It didn't take long for Hilde to notice his expression as she approached him. "You need to gather your supplies as well, Morgenstern is still about a day's ride from here."

Leif sighed in resignation. "I'm aware, but…"

"But?"

"This is the only time I can say that Arthur and I agreed on something so strongly, that we needed to save Magnus and Godric. Needed to save the Union, and..." Leif trailed off. He looked up from the ground at the cloud of smoke rising from the mountains where Fort Sigrun once stood. "And we failed." Turning away from the rising smoke in the distance, Leif gripped his axe tightly in his hands as Hilde placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can not fail again. The Union has fallen, but we cannot let it die." The raider turned once again to face the valkyrie, placing both his hands on her shoulders as she did the same to him.

The vikings were near equal in height, making it much simpler for the valkyrie to pull her companion into an embrace. "I'm sorry we were unable to save Magnus."

"As am I, but even if the entire world were to weep for his passing, he would not return." Leif said, placing a hand upon his companion's back. "Know this, Hilde, I will take vengeance for his fall, this I swear by Odin."


	3. Aryen I

Aryen I

Atop his destrier, Aryen Diamond cantered through the Blackstone Legion's camp, his injuries still weighing heavily on him even a full day after taking Fort Sigrun and putting down his former comrade in arms, Godric Ambrose. He had a feeling that even if his shoulder were to fully recover from where Godric has stabbed him, the fact that he had been forced to kill a man he had so long seen as a friend would weigh on him until the day he died.

Approaching the makeshift prison his men had set up, he felt the cold stares of the nearly two thousand Union prisoners upon him. Aryen had a feeling there would be survivors on the side of the Union, and knowing that the Blackstone Legion was currently at war with the heathens of the Dawn Empire, Aryen had a feeling Apollyon would need all the Fresh soldiers he could muster. He knew how Apollyon worked, and knew her reputation for recruiting from her enemies. She would lead her forces to crush their enemies, leaving only a small fraction still alive. Then, she would begin recruiting. Those who surrendered without a fight were executed immediately. It was only a sheep that waited for its own slaughter. However, those who stood up to the Legion, who stood up to her, and especially those who fought back, they were something else. Aryen looked down at the ruined remains of his wolf crested great helm that now hung from his horse's saddle. Those who fought back were not willing to simply wait for the headsman to come to them. No, a wolf bites back at any who try to collar it.

As Aryen dismounted to walk among the captured soldiers, some locks of his blond hair fell before his face, the knight brushing them aside with his good arm before looking back up at the prisoners. Many of the vikings looked at him as though he were death himself, come to claim them, while the knights, they looked back in defiance, likely already knowing their fate as many were likely recruited in a similar fashion. What little remained of the Union's samurai allies, those he could find, were silently training their eyes on the ground. They were likely still mourning the death of their leader, the kensei Yuki, that heathen Godric had deigned to take to bed with him. Aryen scoffed at the idea, hoping Godric would be forgiven for that sin. However many samurai kept their eyes on the ground, any others he could see were observing another, a woman bound to a post. The woman was haggard, her black hair a mess, cuts and bruises lining what was likely once a beautiful face, though he knew not if they were given to her during the battle or as a prisoner. She still wore much of her armour, lightweight leather with wooden plates, as well as a coat from her shoulders to her knees, the coat coloured red and white. The question of whether her wounds were sustained in battle or as a prisoner were soon answered, as fragments of a wooden mask lay next to her bound feet. "Your people look to you in their time of need," Aryen commented, gaining the woman's attention. Almond shaped eyes looked up at him, a set of deep brown orbs meeting his blue ones as the Blackstone warden took her chin between his fingers and examined her face closely. "Do they see you as their new pack master, or do they fear you will be executed first?"

The woman said nothing at first merely pulling her face away from his grasp with a jerk, and looking down to her shattered mask. She muttered something in Japanese that Aryen just managed to hear over the noise of the camp.

"You'll have to forgive me," The warden said, brushing his hand off on his bloodstained standards. "I don't speak your language." Aryen turned away from the prisoner camp, though his question was answered. That woman was a wounded dog, but for the moment, she was all the samurai had to look to. It was a shame she might not survive. There is little use for a wounded dog in the wolfpack.

Turning to the rest of the prisoners, Aryen wondered to himself "Just how many wolves wait in the ranks of these wounded dogs." He knew it was only a matter of time before he found out and began the gruesome process of executing the remaining Union members. It was almost tragic, really, but it needed to be done. The Legion needed every man it could get in these times of war. Apollyon had only given him the force she did because the Union was proving such a hassle to Blackstone's forces. Had they been less of a thorn in his master's side, perhaps they might have been spared, but instead they had chosen to make themselves known to her. The Union needed to be put down, and much to Aryen's surprise, it was a hard fought battle. Nearly half of his once ten thousand strong army remained. While he was sure he could press some of Ashfeld and Valkenheim's citizenry into service, those would merely be cannon fodder. Any soldier he could recruit from a group that had caused him such trouble, they would be useful to his cause. The others, it was unfortunate, but they would have to die. They would be too much trouble set free, and he couldn't afford to feed prisoners in such number all the way back to Apollyon's fortress.

Slowly, and with a difficulty he refused to show signs of, Aryen hauled himself back onto his horse, his wound from his fight with Godric weighing down on him more than his entire suit of armour. He and Godric had fought together for quite some time, it still felt strange knowing that the lawbringer was now dead, and by his hand no less. It hurt him, but he knew it had to be done. The people of Ashfeld had been through so much, surviving in the blasted landscape that was their homeland. Ashfeld's citizens constantly worried about slipping into one of the many volcanic crevices that lined the country, worried that one day, an eruption would occur, wiping them out like the hand of the almighty God above. When the viking heathens would come and raid their lands, those fears of the end times only grew stronger. Even as legions of knights battled valiantly to drive back the heathen attacks, there were still many of the faithful in Ashfeld who wondered if the end was nigh. Aryen himself had once nearly succumbed to this fear when he arrived home in his village and found his father and younger brother murdered in a viking raid. He had held his gravely wounded mother in his arms as she stammered a tale of vikings descending on the village like a horde of locusts, burning and slaughtering any who didn't flee. His father had been cut down in battle as he fought, the warden dying to the sword of a warlord driven through his stomach. Left to bleed out, he could do nothing as he watched his younger son Aedan take a thrown axe to the back and fall dead to the ground. Aryen could only guess that when his father bled out, it had been a mercy.

It was the Blackstone Legion that turned that opinion around. When the Legion drove the vikings out of Ashfeld, Aryen and Godric were at the front of the army, fighting side by side as they pushed back the horde of northmen. At first it was simple, driving the barbarians out of Ashfeld's lands and back to where they came from. But Apollyon's vision did not end there. No, after the vikings were driven from their kingdom, she pushed further, driving a sword deep into the heart of Valkenheim. Initially, Godric and Aryen had been happy to go along with Apollyon on this mission. The two of them had fought in the once great Oaken Legion, one of the northern most Legions in Ashfeld, and thus, one of the kingdom's first lines of defense. Of course, they had been happy to join Blackstone when the offer was made to them. It was a chance at not only joining something greater than themselves, but also, for Aryen, a chance to avenge what he had lost. Leaving the Oaken Legion, the two were surprised at just how many of their fellow knights had followed them. Of course, it was not a shock when Arthur and Layla, Godric's second and his childhood friend followed him, but when the entire battalion that served under the lawbringer followed him to the Blackstone Legion, that was a surprise even to him. With so many soldiers behind them and a mighty warlord ahead, the Blackstone Legion marched into Valkenheim.

Snow had already begun falling, but with the leadership of Holden Cross and Apollyon, the Legion broke the Viking lines of defense and crashed down on their food stores like a tidal wave. Within a day their grain was burned, leaving only scraps behind. Apollyon knew that with the vikings' savage nature, the barbarians would be too busy killing one another to raid. And she was right. In the next five years, Ashfeld saw nearly no raids, with only the occasional warband even crossing the border into Ashfeld. However, over those years, the Blackstone Legion had slowly begun to lose its outposts in Valkenheim. They eventually dwindled to the point where a single viking warlord was able to liberate the vikings' last stronghold and drive the Blackstones out of their lands. Apollyon had already made plans to lead the vikings away from Ashfeld, baiting them into raiding the samurai, but that didn't stop the Legion from wondering just who had been raiding their outposts. Survivors had reported being attacked in the middle of the night, seeing soldiers in purple and black garb slaughtering their comrades before they called for a retreat. But purple and black weren't the colours of any known viking clans, and the vikings still looked at the Blackstones like a dog looked at the man who kicked it. It didn't take long before the Warborn Union was discovered, a group of Blackstone survivors escaping a raided fort to report that they had been attacked by a union of knights and vikings led by a warlord and a lawbringer, a lawbringer matching the description of Godric Ambrose whose battalion had supposedly been killed by viking raids in their retreat from Valkenheim.

Upon hearing this news, Aryen had immediately summoned his lieutenant, a lawbringer by the name of Sir Richard, and both had gathered their armies, assembling a massive force of ten thousand men. Their enthusiasm had gained them the attention of Apollyon herself who had given them praise for their attitude. "Wolves do not underestimate their prey, Sir Diamond." The Blackstone warlord had declared. "Deal with this Union quickly and return to deal with the samurai. If everything goes as planned, they will be at our gates in a month's time."

Aryen and Richard had crossed the border into Valkenheim with their combined army just as the Samurai were first appearing in Ashfeld. Hearing news of the invasion, Aryen had pressed the army into a forced march to Fort Sigrun, their finest peacekeeper, a woman by the name of Soleil tracking the purple and black garbed Union soldiers to the ancient fortress within a matter of days. The cover of darkness hid the Union when they attacked, but moving an entire army undetected was nigh impossible. Once their location was known, it had only been a matter of days until Aryen had marched the army right to their door. The rest, as they said, was history, and the warden felt no glory after this battle. His once best friend was now dead by his hand, having made his final stand in battle.

Looking down at the gladius held at his hip, Aryen drew the blade. Though it had been cleaned immediately after the battle, this was still the blade that had spilled his friend's blood. It seemed no matter how many times he cleaned the blade, he could still see spots of his friend's blood on the otherwise immaculate sword. With a heavy sigh, Aryen sheathed the gladius at his hip. Taking a deep breath, Aryen resigned himself to reality. Godric was dead, and there was nothing he could do to change that. All he could do was return to leading his army, ensuring the survival of his pack in the war. There was still a ways to go in the march back to Ashfeld, and the war was likely still raging even as his army made camp.

"Aryen."

The warden was shaken from his thoughts at the sound of his name. Looking down from his horse, Aryen was met with the aged face of Richard, the older man standing in his full armour, helmet clutched under his arm. The man looked like he had been through war, having shaved his head, a fine stubble growing on his face and scalp, one brown eye gleaming with intellect while the other was scratched out. To this day, Aryen still did not know just what had happened to the old man, as he always refused to speak on the subject of his missing eye. His loyalty, however, was unquestionable, the old lawbringer serving Aryen and the Blackstones with gusto, following the warden wherever he went. "Richard, my friend, you have news."

"Aye, my lord." Richard said with a nod. "Soleil just returned from scouting the Via Ferros. She found our resupply convoy. It seems they were attacked."

Aryen's sapphire eyes narrowed. "What?"

The old knight nodded grimly. "She was unable to investigate, but it seems the entire convoy was slaughtered near to a man. Servants, drivers, even the wardens assigned to guard the convoy were all found dead."

"And the supplies?"

Richard frowned. "The supplies were largely left. Soleil reports that aside from being bloodied by the bodies of the dead, the supplies seemed untouched. That's not all, my lord, she found a survivor."

"Only one survivor?" Aryen demanded.

"Aye, only one." The lawbringer nodded. "A young boy, likely just out of pagedom, shaken to the core. From Soleil's report, she found him huddled under a tree, covered in the blood of his allies and raving about the screams and roars."

Aryen bit his lip in thought. "Screams and roars?"

Richard nodded again. "Those were his words. The moment Soleil arrived he ran into the snow covered woods. I'm sorry, my lord, we were unable to question him."

Aryen scratched his chin and frowned. The loss of the supply convoy would hit his army hard, but if what the scout had said was true, then it could still be recovered. But if what the survivor had said was true, then something had killed their soldiers. With the rations they currently had, the army could survive until they just reached Ashfeld, so long as they strictly rationed out their food, possibly making it further if they took levies from villages. That was a risk as well though, as who knew what had hit the convoy and where they might be hiding. Or what allies they might have.

No, the convoy would need to be investigated, recovered if possible. "Richard, gather the scout you sent to investigate the convoy and a few other men, the best you can gather. I want that convoy found and cleared. If you find whoever or whatever attacked the convoy, bring them back to our camp."

"You won't be joining, Aryen?" Richard asked.

The warden shook his head. "I'm no use to you in my state. And besides, there's still something I need to do."

"I won't keep you then, commander." The lawbringer replied with a nod, replacing the helm on his head. "The convoy should be about a day's march up the road. Once it's clear, I'll return to the camp. Then we can get the convoy moving and leave this frozen waste."

Aryen nodded, a gesture Richard returned before taking his leave. The mounted warden continued his trek through the camp. He had originally planned to do what came next on his own, but with the attack on the convoy, he decided he would need some reinforcements of his own. Not too many, he still wanted to move quickly, perhaps a pair of conquerors.

With only a few men, it would be only a short way to For Sigrun to pay his respects.

 **oxoxoxo**

 **The continuation of this chapter as Richard and his band investigate the convoy is in Undaed15's story, "The Man of Plagues" and while you can still understand this story well enough if you don't read that, it's still a good read and definitely worth your time.**

 **Also, on an unrelated note, for my fellow knights reading this story, I made it into Marco Yolo's newest knight propaganda video, "The Spoopy Crusade" so definitely check that out too.**


	4. Arthur I

Arthur I

Their failure to reach Fort Sigrun weighed heavily on Arthur's shoulders, and hours of riding and marching had done little to abate that feeling. Arthur heaved a heavy sigh as he once again refused to look behind him at the well worn road of the Via Ferros, the most well used road through both Valkenheim and Ashfeld, and the road they had used in their attempt to reach Fort Sigrun in time. In the distance, he could see banners flapping in the snowy winds of late winter, and the fort they flew above, a massive stone stronghold, a walled structure built to withstand the test of time. Though the winds blew, the image on the banners could easily be seen upon the walls: a raging crimson stallion charging across a black field. Even in the dim light of the moon and their torches, the banner was visible to all who would approach the fort. Leif had told him of the viking tribe that called this fortress home: the Steeds of the Damned.

On the way from Fort Sigrun, Leif had informed him about this particular clan of vikings and their ways. According to the raider, this clan was formed as an offshoot of the Warborn, much like the Union itself, however, instead of allying themselves with knights in order to bring down a stronger enemy, the original Steeds had another purpose from a different origin. Nearly two hundred years ago, a Warborn jarl and some of his clanmates visited both Ashfeld and The Myre, they quickly learned the art of horseback riding, as well as its utility in combat. As such, they quickly learned that in the flatter regions of Valkenheim, cavalry on horseback was absolutely deadly, and it made raids over land possible. Taking these lessons back to Valkenheim with them, the Jarl and his clanmates presented themselves before their fellows and declared that they would be forming their own clan. The matter was settled in viking form: trial by combat, and it ended with the jarl and his followers being granted the right to form their own clan. Claiming Fort Morgenstern as their home, the newly christened clan declared themselves under a new name, one that they believed embodied their deadly raids from the saddle. They would become known as The Steeds of the Damned.

Arthur sat atop his destrier before the bulk of the Union's forces, the wind blowing at their cloaks and making their own singular Union banner flutter madly, the emblem they once flew proudly now all but invisible as the flag fluttered. The warden stabbed the blade of his lance into the icy ground and used his newly freed hands to pull his cloak tighter around his form. Though the steel was cold against him, he was glad his helm hid his face right now, as he couldn't bear to let his men see the look of near hopelessness on his face right now. The only one who seemed able to sense it was Layla, as she sat mounted on her own horse not a few feet away, and he could feel her gaze on him, even if she showed no signs of even glancing at him. The two had known one another for quite some time, and many believed the two were even lovers, but Arthur would always dismiss this claim with a wave of his hand and a recitation of his oath to live by the word of the Lord. Funny how hard it could be for him to feel the Crucifix around his neck and the Holy Bible in his belt pocket right now after he had carried them for so long.

The knight general, or perhaps knight commander, now that Godric had died, heaved a sigh as he counted down the minutes since they had been there. When the Union had first arrived, Leif had offered to act as an emissary for the Union's forces, taking only Hilde and a small company with him as he went to speak with the Steeds' warlord, a man who held the name of Halvdan the Ancient. Arthur knew surprisingly little about this man, though Leif seemed to have a lot of respect for him. This was good, Arthur hoped, as Leif only gave his respect to those with both strength and honour. The knight knew his companion's respect was not easily given, as even after the years they had served together, Leif had yet to truly respect Arthur, often referring to the warden as a "milk drinker" or some other insult. The implication was clear: while Arthur had honour, he lacked real strength.

Though Arthur tried often to prove his might, Leif had high standards for strength, and they often called for more aggression than Arthur was accustomed to showing. The knight preferred to keep a cool head whilst on the battlefield, his calm mind helping him remember and direct his strategies while fighting. It would do no good for him to forget his place whilst his forces were in the thick of battle. Someone needed to remember the next step to the strategy, and if not him, then who? That was not to say he was no warrior. Far from it, in fact, as he and Leif had fought back to back in many a battle against Blackstone forces and viking rebels. He recalled a time when a Blackstone conqueror was about to crush his skull with his flail until Leif flying tackled the man and threw him over a cliff. And he knew Leif would likely never forget when he had charged in and rammed his blade through the spine of a rebel berserker who would have cleaved his head off. The two had actually made quite the pair in battle, with Leif adding his own flair to Arthur's tactics, while Arthur kept Leif in line and ensured his strength was always used in its most efficient manner.

So lost was Arthur in his thoughts that he almost missed the gates to Fort Morgenstern opening and Leif and Hilde emerging. Arthur dismounted and approached the viking as he left the fort. "Well?" He asked, trying not to let his voice waver.

Leif offered him a small smile, one which, beneath the skull pattern on his helm, almost looked off-putting. Arthur had seen it enough, however, to know that what his friend was about to give him was good news. "They're letting us in." Leif said. Arthur released a breath he hardly realized he was holding, the exhaled air flying from his helmeted head in a puff of steam.

Arthur beckoned for their forces to enter the fortress, feeling the relief on Layla's face rather than seeing it from behind her mask. The Union forces quickly entered the fortress, the Steeds sending stewards to take their horses to the stables, and take the soldiers somewhere they could make camp within the walls. Looking within as he and Leif entered the fortress, the gates closing behind them with a mighty heave, Arthur could see a fire being started in the courtyard, likely what would serve to warm their men up after their long forced march.

"The old man wanted to talk to us, by the way." Leif said, getting Arthur's attention once again. At Arthur's confused expression, Leif spoke again. "Halvdan, he wants to meet us in the great hall."

The warden reached up and removed the helm from his head, shaking loose his brown locks and releasing another breath, feeling safer once again. "Then let's not keep him waiting." He said simply, gesturing towards the fortress' entrance.

Leif followed Arthur's example and removed his own helm, releasing his own brown hair and revealing his blue eyes. His locked on Arthur's green orbs for just a moment before he nodded and set off into the fort. Arthur followed close behind, noting the sparse decorations along the walls. Fort Sigrun had been rather ornately decorated, with many tapestries adorning the walls of their hallways whenever possible, however, Fort Morgenstern seemed almost the opposite, with only the occasional statue of one of the vikings' gods seen in each hallway. Though what did surprise Arthur, however, were some of the other statues, and one in particular which displayed the Virgin Mary. The knight frowned. Could that have been a trophy from a past raid?

He hadn't long to consider this, however, as soon they reached the great hall, and his eyes were drawn to the one man who could have been the warlord of the Steeds of the Damned: Halvdan the Ancient. After all, that was the only man who could have been seated at the seat of honour at the head of the table in his gilded seat.

It wasn't hard to see where he had got his name, as Halvdan was clearly a very old man, likely in his seventh decade. However, one could tell he was far from ready to die by the fact that he still wore his armour, a suit of chain and leather that bore the insignia of his clan, and by the Ulfbehrt sword sheathed at his waist. Looking at his face, one could easily mistake him for their kindly grandfather with his long, white hair and braided beard, however, it was his expression that changed his mind. Halvdan had a look on his face somewhere between pensive and stern. It was the look of a man unsure of the path ahead, but who knew he had to move. It was clear from the look in his electric blue eyes that his mind was racing, even as he looked upon his guests.

As Arthur and Leif entered, they also noticed the two men who sat flanking Halvdan. The first sat to his right, a shorter man, though his expression told all in the room that he was not to be trifled with. He had long blond hair braided down the back of his head, though the sides of his head remained shaven. His face resembled that of Halvdan, though untouched by the man's advanced age, and his eyes were exactly alike, though clearly less trusting of their current guests, as he fixed Arthur in particular with a steely glare. Like the warlord, he also wore armour, leather plates emblazoned with the raging crimson stallion of the Steeds of the Damned.

The man to the left was enormous, likely as large as or larger than Leif himself. He had a head of red hair braided down his back in a single braid, his faced framed by a well trimmed red beard. A single streak of blue paint was visible across his face, and though he seemed aware of this, he was not about to fix it. The man wore a leather chestplate and spaulders, with a shirt of mail beneath it, and a cape fastened to his shoulders with a pair of large brass metal clasps. Beneath that, he wore little armour below his waist, instead wearing a lengthy blue kilt, the same colour as the paint across his face. His expression was different from the other man, stern and curious, though not actively hostile. This man was not ready to kill them just yet, though it seemed all he needed was a reason.

Arthur inclined his head slightly as he approached the table, thinking it only proper to bow before the lord of a house.

Halvdan scoffed. "Quite the polite one, aren't you?" He said, his voice still strong, though carrying his years of wisdom with it. "I figured Magnus might have knocked that out of a lad like yourself."

Arthur raised his head in some confusion. "Excuse me, milord?"

"Oh, none of that 'milord' business, lad." Halvdan said, gesturing to the empty chairs next to the men flanking him. "Take a seat. I invited the two of you to my table, didn't I?"

Arthur looked to Leif, who simply gestured forward towards the chairs. With a nod, Arthur stepped forward and claimed his seat next to the giant, red haired man, while Leif took his next to the smaller man.

"Allow me to introduce myself and my companions. I, as you may know, am called Halvdan, though my clan and allies enjoy reminding me of my age through their little name for me."

"Only because it is true, father." The smaller man added.

"Aye, it may be." Halvdan said with a sigh. "But I'll let the gods decide when I'm ready to feel like it." Gesturing to the smaller man, the warlord introduced him. "This is my son, Gunnar. As my blood, I thought it only right that he be here when I meet the two of you and plan our next step."

"Next step?" Arthur questioned.

"Aye lad." The red haired man stated, clapping Arthur roughly on the shoulder. "You're companions are held by your enemies, and we're here to fix that."

"One step at a time, Fergus." Halvdan said, gesturing to the large man. Returning his gaze to the Union's leadership, he continued. "Arthur, Leif, this is Fergus Blackwood, an emissary from the highland clans."

"You're a highlander?" Leif inquired.

"Aye, that I am." Fergus replied. "The Steeds and my own clan, Clan Blackwood, have been close for quite some time, and by the grace of God, hopefully we will remain so for centuries to come."

The highlander's words caught Arthur somewhat by surprise. "I had hardly expected to find another man of the faith this far north."

Fergus looked to Arthur in some surprise. "Then you'd be looking in the wrong place, lad." He said, reaching around his neck and retrieving a Crucifix he held there. "Whole clan worships the Good Lord, even in Valkenheim."

For the first time in quite some time, Arthur remembered the necklace around his own neck and produced the Crucifix that hung there. "It is always kept with me, especially in my darkest hours."

"And dark hours these are." Halvdan said, producing a map of the Via Ferros and placing it on the table. "Magnus dead, Godric gone with him." He said, placing a carved representation of the Blackstone Legion emblem upon the map, marking the location of Fort Sigrun. "From what Leif has told me, Fort Sigrun is no more, correct?"

Arthur nodded. Normally this might conjure memories for him, but he pushed the thoughts of his failure to the back of his mind as he looked upon the map. It hardly paid for the strategist to be wallowing in his own guilt before planning.

"Then the Legion is likely already on the move." Halvdan continued, placing a marker with the Legion's symbol next to the Blackstone and moving both a short distance down the Via Ferros. "Now, you know better than I the condition of the Blackstone force, as well as how many they have and how many of your men are held by them. So, what are we looking at?"

Arthur cast his mind back to the report Layla and Hilde had given him. "Our scouts report they have five thousand men, and two hundred Union prisoners. We're not sure how long before they separate the sheep from the wolves, but if they're still alive, then I can tell you exactly where in the Blackstone camp they'll be."

"You were one of them, after all." Gunnar snarled.

"Peace, Gunnar." Halvdan sighed. "You'll have your chance for vengeance once battle is joined." The heir to the steeds rolled his eyes as his father continued. "As I was saying, at the speed a wounded army with prisoners can move, I would place them only a few miles down the Via Ferros. They're hurting, and they're carrying extra weight." He said, moving both Blackstone and Union emblems a short distance down the Via Ferros on the map. "Your scouts are reliable, yes?"

"Aye, that they are." Arthur replied.

"Then we'll send them to verify the enemy's position properly before battle is joined." Halvdan said, producing another Union emblem as well as one of his own clan, placing both at Fort Morgenstern on the map before moving them down the Via Ferros. "It'll take a day to march out to meet the Blackstones, and we haven't the manpower to kill them all right now. But we can make 'em hurt, and hurt enough that you can rescue your forces."

"Only enough to make them hurt?" Leif demanded, incredulous. "What the hel do you mean? The Steeds have plenty of men for war-"

"And war is where they've gone." Halvdan said, cutting off the raider. "Stigandr called his banners. Much of our force marched on Ashfeld a week ago. They're taking the fight to Apollyon."

"Then why are you here?" Leif asked. "I would expect you to be at the head of your forces."

"That would be my doing." Fergus replied. "The Highland tribes have not joined your war, as Stigandr lacks the power of the Oberjarl, and cannot call our men to battle. Until then, Halvdan and I have negotiations to finish."

Gunnar snarled at Fergus' words, an expression of anger. "By 'negotiations' he means he's here for my cousin Freja."

"Gunnar, enough." Halvdan declared. The older man sighed heavily. "My niece Freja will be leaving Fort Morgenstern with Fergus, as they are to be wed by the Blackwood clan."

"She should be married under the eyes of Odin-"

"And that you will be when you take Ainslie as your wife-" Fergus cut him off.

"Enough, both of you!" Halvdan declared. "Gunnar, I invited you here to learn the ways of war before you must lead your own army, so pay attention. And as for you, Fergus, you are a guest in my house, and I will not have you and my son make a scene before our guests. Am I understood?"

Gunnar grunted in affirmation while Fergus looked down in shame.

"Good." The warlord continued. "Now back to strategy."

Arthur nodded and followed along as Halvdan explained his plans, occasionally chiming in with ideas of his own. In the end, a plan was settled upon, though Arthur could only hope it would be successful. The plan would be simple: the remaining riders of the Union would join with the warriors of the Steeds and would surround the Blackstone camp in the dead of night. Once the Blackstones had been driven to chaos, Leif and Arthur would lead vans of troops into the camp, making for Aryen's command tent. With this extra distraction, it would go near unnoticed that Layla and Hilde were breaking the Union prisoners out of their chains. Once the prisoners were free, Layla would send up a flare alerting the remaining Union and Steed soldiers that it was time to retreat. Arthur wished they could do more, but with the resources and time they had, it was unlikely they would be able to.

Arthur let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "So this is final?"

Halvdan nodded and returned the Union and Steeds emblems to their place at Fort Morgenstern on the map. "Aye. That'd be all we can do tonight."

"If it help at all, I'll be with you in this battle." Fergus piped up. "Any ally of the Steeds of the Damned is an ally of mine. I'll even wear the colours of the Steeds of the Damned so that they don't know me from the crowd."

"You have our thanks, Fergus." Leif said, nodding to the highlander.

"Think little of it, Leif. You would do the same for us, were the positions reversed." Fergus replied.

"I know Magnus would." Halvdan said with a nod. "I've known the lad since he and Bjorn could hold their swords."

He paused for a moment and Arthur thought about the other name Halvdan had mentioned. Bjorn, brother to Magnus. Godric had been introduced by Magnus to his brother, but few other knights of the Union had ever met the man. By Godric's own description, however, that was likely a good thing. The man supposedly hated anyone from Ashfeld, and threatened Godric with death should he have stepped out of line. No one really knew what had become of him. There was no grave for him at Fort Sigrun, and while he may have been among the prisoners, a man like him seemed like he would be more trouble than he was worth to take captive. Wherever he was, Arthur actually muttered a small prayer under his breath that Bjorn not be at the Blackstone camp when they arrived.

Arthur was jarred out of his thoughts as a mug of mead was placed before him. He looked up to see that all the others were being given similar mugs by a servant boy. Arthur watched as Halvdan took his mug by its handle and raised it, the warden and the others at the table mimicking his actions and raising their own glasses.

"Lads, we've seen better days. Two of the finest warriors I've ever seen, as well as over a thousand brave souls lie dead, and those responsible have yet to be brought to justice." Halvdan said. "Tonight, my friends, tonight we drink our mead in the names of those who fell, for those now drinking in Valhalla's halls. I raise my glass to Godric Ambrose and Magnus the Bear Eater."

Arthur raised his glass as well, adding his own words to the toast. "May those who fought for justice be welcomed into the light of the Lord, and let us say amen." Before Arthur drained his glass, he smiled somewhat at Fergus saying 'amen' with him, the warm honey wine leaving a bitter sweetness in his mouth as he drank deeply from the glass. He let out a breath as he lowered his empty glass.

Halvdan gestured to both Arthur and Leif. "The two of you should get some rest." He said. "We march to battle tomorrow, and the last we need is for the two of you to tire before its end."

Arthur and Leif both rose to their feet and gave a small bow for Halvdan and his host. "Thank you, Lord Halvdan."

The warlord returned the bow and all rose as one. "I'll have some of my servants show you to your quarters. Be ready, for we march in the morning."

"Sir Arthur," Fergus said, catching the knight's attention. "Would you care to join me for a prayer session tonight? It would be nice to pray with another Christian for once."

"I'll have to decline, Sir Fergus." Arthur said. "I would like to say my prayers myself tonight. Though I thank you for your offer." Fergus bowed his head and exited the hall as Arthur followed the servant Halvdan summoned to guide him to his quarters. Passing the Virgin Mary statue on the way out of the hall, the knight began to understand why it was there. It seemed as though the faith of the Good Lord had made its way to Valkenheim, and had begun to spread.

Upon arriving at his room, Arthur shed his armour and placed it upon the armour stand provided by their host, leaving him in only a tunic and his breeches. Rifling through his belt, the warden was quick to find his Holy Bible, its page marked. Reaching down the front of his shirt, Arthur pulled his Crucifix to his face and planted a kiss upon the holy symbol. Kneeling by his bedside, he began his recitation. Though he read from the bible as much as he could, while on campaign with the army it was often difficult to find the time to read. As such, he took each and every chance he could to read from his bible, his marked page being that of the twenty third psalm. "The Lord is my shepherd," He read aloud. "I shall not want…"


	5. Via Ferros

Hilde

Hilde gripped her spear and grit her teeth as she followed Layla through the Blackstone Legion's camp. The two of them, dressed in the garb of Blackstone soldiers, had snuck their way into the camp of the Blackstone Legion, claiming to be reinforcements from Ashfeld. They had brought a small battalion of soldiers with them, twenty in number, and had gradually spread them throughout the camp, with orders to act once they were given the signal.

Though she was admittedly near terrified, having always worked as a scout rather than a spy, Hilde did have to admit she had been impressed with Layla's skill as such when she got the lot of them into the camp. Their party had approached the Blackstone camp at sunset, with the peacekeeper on horseback, while the rest of them were on foot. Of course, the camp watchmen were quick to halt them in their tracks and demand they identify themselves.

Layla dismounted her horse and strode right up to the conqueror who had spoken. And presented him with a scroll bearing the symbol of a grey swan on a blue field. "Lady Marion Swann of Waterstop." Layla said, bowing slightly, and gesturing to the soldiers behind her. "I come with the first of the reinforcements from my sister Elissa Swann, taken from the ranks of our army, the River Legion."

Having been briefed beforehand, Hilde knew that all but their true identity was the truth. The River Legion, run by the Swann family, had declared for the Blackstone Legion, the Blackstones having driven out a Samurai war band from the Waterstop region. As repayment, Elissa Swann, current lady of House Swann, Waterstop's ruling family, had declared her family's army for Blackstone. She also knew that Lady Swann's younger sister Marion had trained as a peacekeeper, though she had yet to see true combat.

"May we hurry this along?" Layla said, still impersonating Marion Swann. "It is dreadfully cold here, my soldiers have been marching all day, and I would like to state to my sister that the Blackstone Legion allowed us into their camp before my soldiers froze in Valkenheim's cold."

The guard in question removed his visor to look over the note. His eyes moved quickly over the note, and Hilde prayed to any gods she could think of that Layla's writing was close enough to the noblewoman of Swann to fool him.

Returning the scroll to Layla, the conqueror did not take his eyes off her. "The Swanns surely have a larger force than this. Is this pittance all that could be brought north?"

Layla shook her head. "My force is much larger, however, a late winter snowstorm and raids by the barbarians of this land forced us to take refuge. Many of my men lie injured in a fortress a day's march south, but I led the remainder here with me."

"I have heard of viking attacks on our supply convoys." The guard replied. "And yet you have one of these barbarians in your company." He added, gesturing to her.

Hilde had a strong desire to feed this man his shield, but Layla spoke before she could give a reply. "My sister's choice, I had no say in this. I assure you, however, Freydis is perfectly tame, aren't you, my dear?"

Hilde knew the condescension in Layla's voice was false, but it still irked her to no end, to the point where she was unable to do more than simply nod, lest she spit an answer and make their case worse.

"Now, if you do not mind, I would like to give the report on my men's injuries to Aryen." Layla said, mounting her horse once again. Have you other questions, I urge you to ask them now. Otherwise, I ask that you return my scroll and allow me to go on my way."

The guard sighed heavily and handed the Swann sealed scroll back to Layla, who Hilde could simply feel smirking behind her mask. "Welcome to the Blackstone Legion, Lady Swann."

"My family was recruited into the Legion a month ago, but thank you for the recognition." Layla said dismissively. She cracked the reins and urged her horse forward, the troops on foot following close behind her.

While impressed with Layla's acting as a noblewoman, Hilde still could not help but feel nervous, those nerves only growing more as more of their men trailed off to their positions throughout the camp. She knew it had to be done, as having their forces scattered through the camp was vital to the success of their mission, but she still felt as though their force was growing weaker by the second. Still though, she remained quiet, even as the camp prison came into view.

"Nervous?" Layla asked, hitching her horse outside the prison.

"Is it that noticeable?" She replied.

"You're quieter than usual." Layla pointed out, dismounting and gesturing towards the rows of cages and stakes. "Usually, even on a mission, you'd be talking to me occasionally. Something's on your mind, and I'm guessing it's nerves."

"I'm not usually the one on the stealth mission." Hilde replied. "I track things and then stab them, but you're always the sneaky one."

"Well, I need a bit of muscle on this mission." Layla replied, leading Hilde into the rows of cages and stakes. "Every noble needs a bodyguard, and who better to intimidate than the largest woman I know."

Hilde smirked and rolled her eyes. It was hard to believe she had to be the one reminding Layla not to put a crossbow bolt into Aryen Diamond not two days prior. The peacekeeper always was more focused when on a mission. "So, we're in the camp, we've found the prison, now what?"

"Now we find the prison warden." Layla muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. Likely a sign for her to quiet down and play the part of the loyal bodyguard. "You there!" She called out, getting the attention of another conqueror and a peacekeeper next to her. "Tell me, who is the warden of this prison?"

"Who's asking?" The peacekeeper replied, accusatively.

Layla didn't flinch at the tone. "Marion Swann, second daughter of House Swann of Waterstop. My forces and I have just arrived from Ashfeld, and I wish to acquaint myself with this army."

"Oh, apologies Lady Swann." The conqueror replied, bowing her head in the presence of the noblewoman. "My name is Charlotte Durand, and Lord Richard assigned me as warden of the prison." She gestured to the peacekeeper next to her. "This is my companion and confidant, Soleil."

Hilde frowned beneath her helmet. She had heard those names before. Soleil had been an old friend of Layla's during her time in the Blackstone Legion, the two of them taking part in many a mission together. From assassinations to espionage to scouting missions, Soleil and Layla had been a team for much of it. Hilde could neither hear nor see it, but she knew Layla had sucked in a breath upon seeing her old companion. She would have to be even more careful, lest her voice sound familiar.

"There will be none of that, girl." Layla replied, gesturing for the conqueror to rise. "Can't show too much in front of the prisoners, can we?"

"Of course, you're right." The girl muttered, looking away from the supposed noblewoman in front of her.

Hilde stood by as the silence continued, though Layla broke it after a few seconds. "So, girl, report. Tell me who these prisoners are."

"Of course." Charlotte replied. "The prisoners here now were taken from the Warborn Union after the fall of Fort Sigrun. Most were taken off the battlefield after the enemy general lost trial by combat to Knight Commander Diamond, however, some were also taken from the dungeons of the fort, as well as some taken on the way to and from the fort."

Hilde cast her eyes about the prison, taking in the status of the prisoners for herself as Charlotte gave her report to Layla. Most looked defeated or defiant, just as one would expect of Blackstone prisoners. The Blackstones had even left the prisoners in their armour while in their cells. Layla had explained this to her once; it was to ensure the prisoners remembered that they had chosen the wrong side in battle, as well as to wear them out quicker. Any prisoner who collapsed from exhaustion on the road was put to death as a sheep, while those who kept moving were recruited as wolves. Looking through the ranks of prisoners in their armour, however, something caught her eye.

Pointing to a woman tied to a stake in lacquered armour of the samurai, Hilde asked Charlotte her first question. "What about the samurai? Where did they come from?"

Charlotte followed her eyes and nodded. "When we engaged the Warborn Union, it appears they had several samurai soldiers in their ranks. The samurai leader took her own life after the battle, and we believe this one was the next in the chain of command."

Hilde and Layla looked toward the woman. She looked haggard, and kept her eyes trained on the ground, a broken mask lying at her feet. "Have you gotten anything out of her?" Layla asked.

Charlotte shook her head. "That one's not said a word to any but her own since they were captured. Reports say she was one of the samurai commander's retainers, took it pretty hard when she died."

"I'd imagine watching your commander take their own life might be difficult." Layla replied. "What about her own? You said she spoke to them, was anything overheard?"

Again, the conqueror shook her head. "We don't have any interpreters, and she's only spoken in Japanese. There was one who she spoke to regularly, one of the larger samurai, a shugoki, if I remember right."

"I would imagine a man like that would be easy to spot." Layla said. "Where is he?"

"Gone." Soleil replied. "He was taken to the headsman's block just before you arrived. Decided we couldn't afford to feed someone like that, even were he a wolf. Not with the vikings raiding our supplies."

"Was he alone when he was taken?" Hilde asked.

"Several were taken when he was. Sheep, mostly, those who couldn't fight or were of no use to the Legion, along with one rabid wolf."

Layla cocked her head. "A rabid wolf?" If she hadn't asked, Hilde probably would have herself. She was familiar with the terms used by the Blackstone Legion, however, that one was new to her, and by Layla's reaction, new to her as well.

It was Charlotte who answered. "Knight Commander Diamond coined it. When he returned this morning, he and Lord Richard gave their first inspection of the prisoners. A handful were recruited as wolves, some against their will, but others were marked for death. Just moments ago, Lord Richard returned and gathered the sheep to be slaughtered. Some resisted and were recruited, but the rest were led off. Three knights, were taken, along with the shugoki and a man Lord Richard and Knight Commander Diamond declared was…" Charlotte paused for a moment, and even someone as blunt as Hilde could sense her trepidation and discomfort with the words she was trying to force out. "He called the man 'more animal than man, a beast who would just as soon turn on its master than its foes.' And he was probably right." Charlotte said, letting out a sigh. "Most of the vikings we've conscripted were too terrified to recruit Bjorn the Plague."

Hilde's eyes widened and she nearly dropped her spear. "The Blackstone Legion captured that beast?" She blurted out. She of all people knew the stories about Bjorn the Plague. It was hard not to know of the elder brother to one's jarl, after all. Magnus and his older brother were fierce warriors, though they were different as night and day. While Magnus fought with shield and sword, armoured from head to toe, Bjorn eschewed both armour and shield, preferring to fight with twin axes. His already wild passion, combined with the substances he would take before battle turned what was once a fierce man into an utter monster. The man had a short temper, a fiery anger, and a hatred for all who dwelled outside Valkenheim. Godric and his knights were lucky Bjorn had allowed his younger brother to become jarl in his stead, else they would have been violently executed the second they were found. Even after Magnus allowed them into the Union, Bjorn was still often kept at a distance, often kept busy with scouting missions at all times. Magnus could never be sure whether any given day would be the one when his brother would snap and murder a knight or a viking who had grown close to a knight.

Charlotte's hand went to a pouch on her belt, and she hesitated in her response. Layla noticed this and pressed the issue. "You seem troubled by this. Did the beast harm you?"

"No, no, it's not that…" Charlotte muttered "It's…" She hesitated again. "Something else."

"We're listening, girl." Layla said, prodding her to keep talking. Her voice was gentle and soft when speaking to the conqueror, something even Hilde noticed. When Layla spoke to her, it genuinely sounded like she cared.

Charlotte sighed. "When I was young, just a girl really, my mother was kidnapped in a viking raid. When Soleil and I captured Bjorn, I saw he had one of my old dolls in his lair." She hesitated again. The words seemed painful to say, but still, Charlotte pushed herself on. "When I confronted him after putting him in his cage, he admitted that it had been him who had taken my mother from Ashfeld." Hilde thought she might have been finished, but after shaking her head, she spoke again. "I was ready to kill him for laying a hand on my mother, for taking her from me, but if his story is to be believed, and the vikings in this camp can be trusted, he didn't kill her. According to their stories, he married her."

Charlotte pulled a pouch from her belt and opened it, producing a small doll dressed in an elegant Ashfeld gown of green with yellow highlights. The colours of the Iron Legion. "This was mine when I was just a girl, I would know it anywhere." Charlotte continued. "I was suspicious when I found this with Bjorn, but his words and those of the vikings in camp…"

"You care for him?" Layla asked.

"No." Charlotte replied firmly. "No. He can say what he wants, but he still took my mother from me and… and he killed my companions and…"

"Charlotte." Layla said, laying a hand on the small of the girl's back. "You're a terrible liar."

The conqueror sighed. She pulled the helm from her head and let her blonde locks spill out. Hilde was surprised. Charlotte looked to be barely out of her teens, and yet she was still a loyal Blackstone. "I want answers." She admitted. "He took my mother from me, and supposedly married her. Whether he did or not, he's probably the only person who can tell me what happened to her, how she lived, how she…" Hilde could tell she was avoiding the topic of her mother's death, but the word 'died' still hung in the air, even unspoken.

"Charlotte." Layla said. "You still have time to get those answers."

"She does." Soleil said, finally speaking up and drawing Hilde's attention away from her comrade's discussion. She didn't dare move further, however, as Soleil had flung an arm around her shoulders, and moving at all ran the risk of pressing her neck against the dagger the peacekeeper now held against her neck. "But I think I would like some answers myself, Layla."

Layla let out a sigh of disappointment, and Charlotte suddenly straightened her back and gasped, eyes widening. She didn't move, however. "I never was as good at accents as you were, Soleil."

"I noticed when you dropped yours while talking to Charlotte." Soleil replied. "You really should practice before marching into enemy territory."

"It was always you in the disguises." Layla admitted. "But it was always me who snuck in the weapons. You may notice our dear Charlotte hasn't moved yet."

"The old knife up the sleeve trick." Soleil mused.

"It's pressed against her spine." Layla continued. "I see one drop of blood on that knife and she dies."

Hilde stood stock still through the entire conversation, making pleading eye contact with Layla and Charlotte, who mirrored her expression near perfectly despite Hilde's mask. She dared not move, breathe too hard, or speak, lest the dagger on her neck be brought just that little bit closer. She was petrified, Hel's grasp just a breath away. She was, however, impressed. Anyone passing by would not notice anything out of the ordinary unless they looked close enough. To a passerby, it merely appeared that Soleil had an arm around her shoulders and Layla had a hand on Charlotte's back. Just a few women talking, nothing out of the ordinary. Even when Layla and Soleil spoke they gave nothing away, their voices just loud enough to be heard by one another, their masks likely covering expressions of cold fury, hiding all anger from the camp.

"So where do we go from here?" Layla continued, Hilde still too nervous to even speak. "You could kill my friend, raise the alarm, and without question, seal my fate, but Charlotte would die before I do, I promise you that."

Hilde felt Soleil tense and resisted the urge to swallow. It was clear Soleil did not want Charlotte dead, so Layla still had one way to keep them alive. But walking out of the camp with Charlotte was hardly an option when they had a mission to complete. They were at an impasse until one or both parties ran out of patience or slipped up. And as Hilde had just seen, Layla was capable of such. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Hilde could only pray it was a sign of the Allfather's favour.

"No matter what happens to the two of us," Layla said, Soleil having apparently run out of time to respond. "The Warborn Union will be getting these prisoners back. All four of us may be dead by the end of it, but this will happen."

"I assume you have a point, traitor." Soleil hissed.

"Patience." Layla quietly urged, Hilde silently agreeing, the cold metal of Soleil's dagger pressing against her windpipe. "I am giving you this chance to escape." Layla said simply. "Run away, rescue this Bjorn, maybe just demand to judge him yourself. A knight can still demand to speak to a prisoner before their death, use that chance. But escape this camp while you can. I can't guarantee your safety, but it's the best chance you have."

"How can we know your troops won't kill us?" Soleil quietly demanded.

"Our mission is to rescue our comrades, not to wreak vengeance." Layla said simply. "You two have this one chance to walk away. Though you both hail from Blackstone Hills, I know you did not join this Legion by choice. Charlotte, I know the Legion pressed you into service with the blood of a priest still on your hands, and Soleil, you chose the Legion over prison after being caught with that Merchant's daughter. Neither of you owe this marauding band anything. Escape now, and you can make it back to Ashfeld and find shelter with the Iron Legion."

"And why would they accept us?" Soleil shot back. "We wear the uniforms of their sworn enemies."

"Holden Cross himself is among the leadership of the Iron Legion, as are Mercy and Stone. All of them were once Blackstones of high rank." Layla replied.

"Soleil." The party turned to face Charlotte, her eyes pleading with her friend. "I… I want to speak with him."

"You're serious?" Soleil hissed.

Charlotte nodded. "They're right. Our army is still injured and recovering from the battle. If the Union attacks, no matter their goal, there will be blood. Remember Soleil, this is Layla. Who always follows Layla?"

No one needed to answer aloud to know. Arthur's strategic prowess was known throughout the Union, and Hilde could only imagine The Blackstones knew of it as well.

"We'll go." Charlotte said again, this time with more force in her voice.

"You heart her, Soleil." Layla said, voice void of emotion. "Let Hilde go, and forget you saw us."

Hilde resisted the urge to swallow as she felt Soleil tense up. The edge of her dagger could be felt against her throat, any pressure liable to spill her blood onto the camp grounds. The knife shook for just a fraction of a second, and Hilde could swear she was about to die, but a second later she heard the telltale sound of metal sliding against metal and the weapon was sheathed once more. She let out her breath and audibly sighed in relief.

"Find Bjorn and fast horses." Layla ordered. "You don't want to be here when the Union attacks."

Charlotte nodded and beckoned for Soleil to follow her. Though Soleil turned to flash one last masked glare to them, neither one said a word as they walked away. As the two faded from view, Hilde spoke for the first time since being identified, her voice feeling like a blessing after so long of being held hostage. "How can we be sure they won't tell Diamond or raise the alarm?"

Layla rose from where she sat and removed a pouch from her belt, producing a long burning signal flare from it. "We can't," she said, planting the flare in the ground and pulling out her tinderbox. "But if they do, it won't matter. Once this flare is lit, the camp gets swarmed by Arthur and Leif's forces. If they raise the alarm, that causes even more chaos."

Listening to Layla speak, it was almost easy to believe their forces could take the Blackstones. Almost. She did, however, know that once that flare went off, the camp would be in chaos. Moving quietly towards one of the cages, the lightly rapped on the bars, getting the attention of the Union members within. Removing her helmet, she watched their faces visibly light up, even if only for a few seconds. Hope was certainly something rare in this prison, but it was visible in their eyes. The sense only got stronger as she began to explain their plan for escape, telling them to spread the word across the camp and be ready to move as soon as possible. She spoke quickly, knowing that even at that very moment, several disguised Union soldiers were setting up their part of the plan, even as Layla sparked the fuse to their flare.

oxoxoxo

Yumiko

Yumiko shook herself awake from another night terror.

No matter how long it took, she was unable to purge her mind of the image that plagued her each time she closed her eyes. Yuki would raise her dagger, plunge the blade into her own belly, and, in what took an eternity to her, draw the blade across her body, each solitary second of agony visible in her eyes, even past her mask. She hadn't even been able to stay asleep long enough to see its end as she finally dropped to the ground. That did not mean, however, that the image was not seared into her mind.

The nobushi sighed to herself, wondering again silently why her fellow samurai were turning to her for guidance. She had been one of Lady Yuki's first soldiers, yes, but that hardly qualified her for any kind of leadership.

Dismayed that many samurai were even now looking to her, pleading silently for some sort of guidance, she cast her mind back and thought to herself: what would Lady Yuki do?

Her lady had been the youngest of three siblings, and the only one born a girl. She knew that her eldest brother Hikaru would inherit his family name, and her middle brother Eiichi had plans to form a house his own, and she would necessarily be left to be married off to some noble to increase her family's standing in the Dawn Empire. Her eldest brother encouraged her to simply accept fate and be married off, but Yuki was never one to simply leave her fate to another, and instead, followed the example of Eiichi. She chose her own path.

Initially she merely went to the local village and began pouring her own funds into the people's militia, however, once her own martial skill began to increase, she became more involved in the army. She personally recruited Takumi after besting him in a duel, as well as a shugoki named Gorou, a man assigned to guard her by her father. Finally, she was brought into the group, as Yuki saved the monastery she had guarded from roving vikings. After pledging to protect the temple, Yumiko would join the kensei, pledging her life to Yuki.

And now that life had ended. Yuki was gone, Takumi was gone, and if the empty space in Gorou's cage was anything to go by, the shugoki had been taken for his judgement. She held no illusions she would ever see her last friend again, and wondered to herself if it wouldn't be better to just close her eyes now and not open them again. Let herself join Lady Yuki, perhaps. Tied to her stake and not sleeping more than a few scattered minutes or hours at a time, her limbs were already beginning to feel heavy, as were her head and eyes.

She jerked herself awake once more, knowing that all sleep would bring was more of the nightmares.

Though her head was still dragged down by sheer exhaustion, Yumiko forced herself to keep her eyes open. Staring down at her own feet, she wondered aloud "Will you ever forgive me, Lady Yuki?"

The sound of multiple gasps drew her out of her thoughts, as a small comotion was raised. Curious, she forced her head to rise and take stock of what was going on.

The guards were just as confused as she was as a plume of red smoke was rising from the corner of the prison. The red smoke rose like a bloodstained cloud, high into the sky. She frowned. It looked an awful lot like a samurai distress flare.

The sound of metal on flesh drew her attention back to earth in an instant, only just managing to see a peacekeeper in Blackstone colours drop the still bleeding corpse of one of the prison guards. Before the man's comrade could raise an alarm of any kind, the black and orange clad valkyrie next to him drove her spear through his ribcage, the man coughing up blood before dropping to the ground in a pained heap.

Yumiko hadn't even the time to question what was going on before the explosions began.

oxoxoxo

Leif

Leif watched from outside the camp as the plume of blood red rose into the air.

The sounds of confusion were audible to him, even over the sounds of the army around him. To his right were Arthur, Halvdan, and the remainder of their mounted forces, while to his left were Fergus, Gunnar and their infantry. Though the torches had long since been doused, Leif had stood in the dark long enough to make out the rough shapes of the mounted Steeds and Union soldiers, their armour glinting in the moonlight, as well as the seemingly perpetual movement of Gunnar next to him, as the berserker snarled and worked himself up before the battle. The younger man's twitching did little to calm Leif's nerves as he looked down to the camp.

Leif turned to say something to Arthur, but just as the raider opened his mouth, the sound of an explosion cut him off. Looking down to the camp, Leif saw several other explosions go off, the bombs planted by their disguised troops signalling the beginning of their attack.

Looking back up to Arthur, he saw the warden had also turned to look at him, Arthur gritting his teeth and closing his helm. Leif knew the plan by heart at this point, and knew just what was about to happen. The cavalry was to surround the camp, harrying their sentries as the disguised troops continued to set off their bombs. In all the chaos, he, Fergus and Gunnar would lead the troops into the camp and slaughter any Blackstone they could find. The disguised troops he would know from the others by the Waterstop heraldry of a grey and orange swan on a black background.

Arthur raised his lance and rallied the troops. "For the Union." He declared "For Magnus and Godric! For all those souls trapped or lost to the Blackstone Legion! For all those depending on us, CHARGE!"

The combined cry of all the cavalrymen went up in a din of sound, Leif's own voice joining in as he and his infantry prepared themselves to attack.

With a collective war cry and the thunder of hooves, Arthur and his force charged, and Leif could already hear the screams as the camp guards were caught unawares and cut down where they stood. Arthur's force began to circle the camp as more and more explosions sounded from within. Leif knew it was only a matter of time before his group was to make their charge and begin cutting down the defenders.

"Well lad," Fergus said, his massive blade lodged in the earth next to him. "By the grace of God we charge, and by His grace, we will survive."

Leif let out a snort. "You sound like Arthur."

"To some, all men of faith sound alike. However, perhaps I could say something all could agree with." Fergus ripped his blade free of the ground and rested the massive claymore on his shoulder. "A saying passed down the highland tribes for generations, even before we discovered Christ's teachings." The highlander turned to face his force and gave a single nod, one mimicked by all those highlanders in attendance and even some of the Steeds.

Turning back to face the embattled camp, Fergus stepped forward and raised his blade in the air. "DUNMAGLASS!"

The line was repeated by all those who heard it, the warriors bellowing the highland battle cry before they charged down the hill. Leif himself, before he could even realize it, was part of the charge, the highland cry on his lips as he swung his great axe through the armoured skull of a Blackstone sentry and barrelled into the camp, a trail of bodies beginning to form behind him.

oxoxoxo

Layla

Pulling open the door to another cage, Layla gave yet another command. "Salvage the weapons of the dead and stand ready! If we want out, we're fighting our way out!" The prison lay empty of Blackstones, their force cut down by the Union before any could raise the alarm, and the camp's forces too distracted by Arthur and Leif's attack to investigate any commotion. Many of the prisoners had already been freed, those who had having armed themselves with weapons the Blackstone Legion no longer needed. Only a handful of prisoners remained, many of the cages having already been opened. Already a crowd of vikings, knights and even samurai stood ready to fight, armed with a selection of mismatched weapons from the Blackstone troops. Those that remained imprisoned were those few tied to stakes, those the Legion had decided to make examples of for the masses.

Layla ran to the closest stake, a samurai woman tied to it, and began to cut the ropes that bound her with her dagger. "Come on, we need you down from there."

The woman looked at her with a glassy eyed stare of confusion. "What's going on?"

"You fought for the Union?" Layla asked. The woman nodded, falling to the ground on unsteady feet as the peacekeeper finished cutting her binds. Layla caught her as she nearly fell and held her at shoulder length. "Well the Union is here to fight for you. Now come on, we've got to make ready. What's your preferred weapon?"

The woman shook her head as if just now coming to her senses. "What do you mean?"

Layla squeezed down on the woman's shoulders until she grimaced in pain. "You're responsive, good, we'll need that. Pick up a weapon from the dead, and ready yourself. We're making our escape, and you're coming with us."

The woman shook her head and blinked several times, possibly not believing this to be real. She cast her eyes about the prison, as though finally noticing the dead and dying guards, and the open cages. Finally, her eyes focused on Layla, and she nodded, pushing past the Peacekeeper and picking up a discarded spear. "Heavier than what I am used to, but it will do, for now." She said quietly.

Layla nodded and moved on, cutting the next man free of his binds, this one obviously a knight, his head shaved and the scarring across his stubbled face marked him as likely being a conqueror at some point. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded as she began to cut his ropes.

"Have some respect." Layla hissed as she cut through his bindings. "I could leave you here if you want." That seemed to shut the man up as he bit his tongue. "Based on your looks, and the fact that I don't recognize you, I'd guess you joined recently, or perhaps you were taken from the dungeon. Give me a reason, and I'll put any number of sharp objects through your ribcage. Understood?"

The man gulped, likely knowing that in his current condition he wouldn't make it far before Layla made good on her promise.

"Good, now pick up your steel and get ready. Our saviours should be here any minute now."

The man nodded hastily and ran to the shrinking pile of weapons, though Layla was already onto the next stake before he even picked his armaments. As she cut the ropes, she could hear Hilde approaching behind her. "How are the prisoners you freed looking?" The valkyrie asked.

"They're wounded, but they're desperate enough to fight for their freedom." Layla said as the cut ropes fell to the ground around the viking she had freed, the man mumbling a quick word of thanks before running to the pile of weapons.

"The starved wolf is most likely to bite." Hilde remarked. "But I have to wonder if they're too starved even for that."

Layla stole a glance behind Hilde. "We're about to find out." Layla said.

Hilde turned, eyes widening as a patrol of Blackstone guards entered the camp prison, weapons aloft.

Thinking quickly, Layla lobbed a _Fiat Lux_ into the center of the crowd. In a panic, the guards scattered, though many were still unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast. Moving just as fast, the peacekeeper hurled her dagger, the blade lodging itself in one guard's ribcage. Layla charged as he stumbled back, leaping legs first into his chest, pulling her dagger out with an arc of lifeblood and running her sword into his comrade's back.

Another guard recovered and raised his sword to cut her down, only to receive a spear to the ribcage for his trouble. Hilde kicked the unfortunate knight off her spear and bashed another in the helmeted head with her shield, dazing him for long enough for Layla to run him through the neck with her sword. Tilting her wrist, she allowed the corpse to slide off her blade and looked about the prison. A small number of the former prisoners lay dead, but they were vastly outnumbered by the amount of dead Blackstones.

In particular, her eyes were drawn to the samurai woman she had released. The formerly tied woman, though clearly used to using a lighter weapon, was easily holding back her sword wielding opponent through a series of quick, precise strikes that he was forced to avoid, lest he be impaled through the neck. Anytime he got close, the woman would seemingly glide back with a dancer's grace, before returning with a vicious swing of her weapon. Seemingly running out of patience, the knight rushed the samurai woman, only to receive a stab to the knee for his trouble, followed by stabs to both shoulders, two stabs to the stomach, and the finishing blow of a spear through the neck.

"So that's why they tied her up separate." Layla mused.

"Wonder later, Layla," Hilde said, snapping her out of her musings. "Another force is massing at the entrance."

Layla spun around, the rest of the prisoners following her gaze to the mass of orange and black garbed Blackstone soldiers standing at the entrance, a line of soldiers already forming a makeshift shield wall, advancing while hitting the flats of their blades against their shields. Though the force was small in number, the handful of knights, including two conquerors and a lawbringer, told Layla this would be a difficult escape to make.

Before she could bark a command, like a twisted mirror of her earlier attack, the lawbringer hurled a _Fiat Lux_ into the prison. "SCATTER!" She screamed.

The prisoners didn't need to be told twice, many having already broken into a run before Layla had even spoken. She herself was already in motion before the second syllable, but even as she broke into a roll, the explosive went off and the entire world began to spin as she was thrown to the ground by the detonation.

Ears ringing and the world whirling, Layla forced herself up, only to be met with a warden standing over her, blade raised. Her heart raced as she stumbled back, dropping her sword in her haste. Cursing herself, she closed her eyes and looked away as her death approached.

And then her attacker fell upon her, dead and bleeding as the Union cavalry charged.

oxoxoxo

Arthur

The Blackstone forces were thrown into chaos as Arthur and his knights arrived, the cavalry shattering their lines and sending men fleeing in terror. Pulling his lance back from the man who would have killed Layla, Arthur turned his focus to the one man barking orders at the Blackstones, the last thing keeping their force from breaking: the lawbringer. Spurring his horse to charge, he broke into a gallop and levelled his lance at his foe. The lawbringer, to his credit, stood his ground, only moving just enough to avoid Arthur's stab by the skin of his teeth, the point of the warden's lance skittering across the man's plate armour in a spray of sparks.

Turning his horse around, Arthur saw the armoured knight regaining his footing and standing tall. Seeing this as a challenge, Arthur charged once more, only for the armoured knight to reverse his grip on his weapon, his halberd's fluke facing him. Eyes widening as the lawbringer drew back his weapon, Arthur pulled back his lance and heaved on the reins. Unable to stop his horse in time, he desperately held his lance across his chest, sucking in a breath as the halberd's spike hooked around his weapon's shaft. Unable to release in time, Arthur was dragged from the saddle and to the ground, the world spinning as he hit the ground in a roll, desperately trying to avoid the lawbringer.

Finally coming to a stop, the first thing Arthur noticed was his helm had been knocked askew. Tearing the blinding prison from his head, Arthur looked up to see the lawbringer standing above him, halberd stabbing down. The warden rolled to the side, the weapon impaling the earth where his ribcage had been only seconds before. Hauling himself to his feet, Arthur hastily drew the sword at his belt and stood in the ochs guard, facing down his foe.

The lawbringer, however, paused in his assault after seeing the warden. "I should have known you would survive the battle, Arthur Rowan." The man said, only just audible over the sounds of battle around them.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Richard?"

The lawbringer didn't even nod at the warden's words as the two began to circle one another. "We didn't find your corpse at Fort Sigrun, surprising, as I was sure you would have died at Godric's side."

"And I should have known you would still be licking Aryen's boots!" Arthur spat. "Where is he now, Richard? I would expect him to be leading his troops, or is he too good for the ground troops now?"

"Lord Aryen is directing the defense of the camp." Richard replied. "I've been directed to secure the prison. And it seems his suspicions were right."

Arthur snarled and struck, his slash being deflected off Richard's halberd and opening him to a stab, one he just managed to avoid. Arthur raised his blade once again, only for Richard to shove him back with the shaft of his weapon, the warden stumbling back as the lawbringer stabbed forward again, the Union's commander only just managing to stay on his feet and block the attack.

"Pathetic." Richard snarled. _"Ad mortem!"_ He declared, swinging his halberd's axe at Arthur's neck. Grasping his blade in his offhand, Arthur parried the strike and shoved the pommel of his sword forward, slamming it into Richard's helmeted head, the blackstone executioner stumbling back as Arthur raised his blade for another strike, bringing the heavy blade of his longsword down on Richard's armoured shoulder and making the lawbringer stagger back in pain.

Bringing up his blade once more, Arthur brought it down in a savage arc, only for the shaft of Richard's halberd to catch it and force him back. Arthur regained his footing, only to be met with a mighty shove from the lawbringer, immediately followed by a mighty swing which the warden only just managed to block, the force of the hit nearly knocking the blade from Arthur's hands, and even then it left his arms shaking from the impact.

Looking up, Arthur watched as Richard raised his halberd to finish the job. Steeling himself, Arthur gripped his blade until his knuckles turned white, and as Richard swung his blade in a downward arc, the warden gave a savage counter, deflecting the blow and dealing a strike from his sword to Richard's helm. A cockier knight might have pressed the attack, but Arthur knew Richard could shrug off even a blow to the helm and waited as the lawbringer shook his head to clear it, advancing slowly as the executioner backed away.

Arthur soon realized his mistake. Richard lashed out, recovering quicker than Arthur thought possible, the heavy swing from his axe coming in to Arthur's right, forcing the knight to move his guard, his entire frame being rocked by the force from the hit. Wanting to strike back, Arthur swung his weapon for his opponent's neck, but Richard was ready. The lawbringer caught the attack and slammed the butt of his weapon into Arthur's skull. The warden stumbled from the hit, his vision swimming, as the lawbringer hooked his weapon around his heel and heaved him off his feet once more. Arthur fell to the ground, the fierce battle around him barely heard over the ringing in his ears.

Arthur looked up as Richard raised his halberd one last time. Head swimming and ears ringing, he knew he would not be able to avoid the stab to come this time. The faceless visage of the lawbringer's helm would be his final sight. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to move back, but the reaper seemed to follow his every step.

Richard reared back for the final blow, Arthur gritting his teeth in anticipation as he screwed his eyes shut. A braver man would want to look death in the eye, but at that moment, Arthur felt more mortal than ever before. Tensed in preparation for the end, Arthur said a silent prayer for his soul and for the safety of his comrades.

The blow never came.

The first thing Arthur heard was the sound of metal on metal. Opening his eyes, he saw a spear being retracted above his prone form. Richard stopped to parry the attack, but Arthur, seeing his escape from death's grip, struck out, his armoured boot striking Richard in the shin and sending the older knight to a knee.

Grasping his blade, Arthur used it to push himself to his feet once more and catch a glimpse of his saviour. She was a woman, clad in the tatters of what was once leather and lacquered armour. Her black hair was a mess upon her head, her robes in shreds from battle and days of imprisonment, and a look of terrified resolve and ferocity in her almond shaped eyes. This woman was a samurai.

Before Arthur could question her further, Richard was already back on his feet, weapon gripped in his armoured hands and faceless helm seeming to glare fiercely at the two fighters before him. "A prisoner joins with a traitor. Seems you may be a wolf after all."

" _Sonata ni shi wo."_ The woman hissed. She struck first, lashing out with her spear, the blade just being deflected off the lawbringer's weapon in time to miss his neck.

Not giving him time to think, Arthur attacked, his sword swinging in a downward arc at Richard, the man just moving out of the way in time.

Shoving the samurai back with his halberd's shaft, Richard stabbed at Arthur, the warden blocking and deflecting the blow with his blade, giving the samurai time to strike. She swung her weapon, the blade of the spear colliding with the lawbringer's helm from behind, sending the man stumbling forward in a daze.

Seizing upon his chance, Arthur struck. Breathing deeply, he grasped his sword by the blade and raised it high above his head. With a war cry fueled by rage, loss and desperation, the warden swung in a murder stroke, the crossguard of his sword slamming through Richard's helm, the lawbringer screaming in pain as he hit the ground, blood pouring from the hole in his helmet.

Arthur pulled back his sword with a jerk and held it at his hip, watching as Richard grew still. Looking up from his kill, he inspected the prison. Layla and Hilde's forces were cleaning up the remainder of the immediate Blackstone forces, and the remaining prisoners had been freed. "Layla!" Arthur called. "Take the prisoners to the Steeds' forward camp. There should still be enough horses to get them out of here."

Layla nodded and gestured to the samurai woman who had fought Richard with him. "The samurai here are on our side as well. They'll follow her."

Arthur mimicked her nod and turned to the samurai, a nobushi if he wasn't mistaken. He reached up and removed his helm, shaking loose his hair and finally meeting her eyes. "Do you speak Latin?" He inquired.

She nodded, almond eyes wild and hair sticking out at angles. _"Hai."_ She replied in her own tongue before shaking her head "I mean yes, Lady Yuki taught me when I first joined her."

The warden nodded. "My name is Arthur. Knight commander of the Warborn Union. If you and your men still want to fight alongside the Union, we would be honoured to have you."

"My name is Yumiko," The woman replied with a small bow. "And if these samurai will follow me, I will lend them to your Union."

"Good," Arthur said, gesturing to another knight to bring him his horse. "Stay with Layla and Hilde, get your men to safety and get away from the Blackstones. I'm going to find Leif and get him and the others out of here." He declared as he mounted his horse. Hilde passed him a spare lance from the mass of Blackstone corpses.

Yumiko nodded the affirmative and joined the two other women. As Arthur spurred his horse into a gallop, he could just hear the sounds of calls in Latin, Japanese and Norse for the men to group up. Before long, the battle would be over, their distraction only needed last a few minutes longer.

He now only had to hope he could pull Leif back with him.

oxoxoxo

Leif

Leif roared in rage and glee as his axe came down on the ribcage of a conqueror, loving the feeling of the bones shattering like twigs beneath his axe. Looking up from his fresh kill, he was just in time to watch Fergus, in one stroke, decapitate the enemy commander. That brought a smile to his face, even if the now dead commander wasn't Aryen Diamond.

The sound of a war cry jerked Leif back to reality as a charging raider, infuriatingly clad in Blackstone colours, rushed him, axe swinging in a wide arc. Leif snarled and parried the strike, returning with a swing of his own, burying the blade of his axe in the man's abdomen. He hauled the man in, the axe in his gut pulling the man face to face with Leif. The raider whimpered and coughed up blood. Leif snarled and brutally smashed his fist into the man's face, the feeling of cracking bones nearly making the viking chortle like a young lass.

"Where is Diamond?!" He demanded, his voice only just heard over the din of battle, though if any man heard him, they showed no sign of it, as battle continued to rage around them. "Where is he?!" Leif roared, slamming his axe upward into a warden's chin, splitting his head and snapping his spine. "Does your commander not stand by his men anymore? Or is he just a coward?"

"Leif!" A voice rang out. "Enough!"

Snarling, Leif turned to the voice's source. Arthur had ridden to him, the knight sitting bloodied atop his horse, lance clutched in his hand and sword at his waist. "We have the enemy on the run, Arthur, how can we just flee now?"

"Blackstones still outnumber us five to one, and they're beginning to regroup." Arthur explained. "Our riders are starting to take casualties, and if they fall, Blackstone will run us down like cattle. We need to pull back now!"

"You would have us run while Aryen Diamond still lives?" Leif spat, blood flying out of his mouth with the spittle.

"If we don't leave now, we lose the very prisoners we fought for." Arthur replied. "Pull yourself out of your own rage for just a few moments and see that!"

"He's right, lad." Fergus said. "We're winning now, but the enemy will regroup soon and they'll be on us." The highlander adjusted his blade on his shoulder. "We don't have the manpower to wage a battle, but with the prisoners freed and our blow dealt, we've hurt Aryen and his Legion badly."

Leif snarled and gripped his axe tightly. As much as he was loathe to admit it, they were right. Aryen or not, they had their victory. Aryen's corpse would have to wait. "We'll sound… the retreat." Leif forced out. "But I swear, the next time I see Aryen, he dies.

"Sound the retreat!" Arthur called, either missing the raider's oath or choosing to ignore it.

A nearby valkyrie nodded and raised her horn to her lips.

Before a sound could even be produced, the explosion went off. Leif wasn't even in danger of the blast, the the surge of flame and heat, the light and the sound. He knew it anywhere. A viking fire flask.

"Sound it now!" Arthur ordered, snapping the vikings out of their daze. "Before we lose more men!"

The valkyrie shook her head and nodded, raising the horn and producing a clear tone that resonated across the camp.

Leif grunted in anger and annoyance as he watched Arthur ride off, gritting his teeth as the Warden faded into the distance. His distraction was broken by the sound of a battle cry and rattling chains. The viking turned just in time to catch the chain of a conqueror's flail around the haft of his axe. Enraged, Leif heaved on the weapon, the flail flying from the hands of the knight and jerking him forward. Leif raised his axe, the knight cowering behind his shield as Leif rained blow after blow from his axe against it, the wood splintering from each hit before the axe met flesh in the man's arm. The knight's scream was muffled by his helm as he collapsed to his knees in pain. Snarling, Leif swung his axe underhand, catching the man in the chin with it's blade, splitting his jaw and snapping his neck as the corpse flew back from the force of the blow.

Another scream drew Leif's attention, but turning to face it, he quickly learned it was a scream of pain, as Fergus ripped his claymore from the chest of the man he had shoved it through. "Come on lad!" Fergus called when he noticed he had caught Leif's attention. "We stay too long and we'll be left behind!"

Grudgingly, Leif accepted this. A viking never knew when the day of his death would come, when he would rise to Valhalla to fight alongside the gods and his ancestors. It was why he wore minimal armour and fought so viciously. He knew, however, that while his death would always hound him, there was still more he needed to do with his life. The remaining Union warriors would need leadership, Arthur needed his aid in command, and Aryen Diamond still needed to die. For those reasons, Leif turned from the field of battle and broke into a run alongside Fergus. He knew as well as Fergus did that the remainder of the Union would be waiting for them for only so long before assuming them dead.

He could not die yet. Not while others lived.

oxoxoxo

Layla

The time since the retreat was sounded felt like hours to her.

The explosions at the Blackstone camp had ceased, and while the Blackstones were still scrambling to contain the damage, that would only occupy them for so long.

In desperation, Layla cast her eyes about the forward camp once more. The soldiers had long since packed away everything they had brought with them and were more than ready to leave. Of the prisoners, as many as possible had been given mounts, though priority had been given to those injured either in the battle at Fort Sigrun or during the escape. Many had been given mounts, and even some of the Union's remaining cavalry had offered to share their horses or dismount for the injured.

For her own part, she and Hilde still had their own horses, though Arthur had offered to share his with the samurai woman Yumiko who now sat behind him, having declined the horse initially offered to her and given it to one of her more injured soldiers. She was still barking out orders in Japanese for her troops to get themselves in order. Two masses of Union troops had already been sent ahead under the eye of Halvdan, who had escorted many of the wounded on horseback, and Gunnar who had taken much of their infantry force.

More and more of their soldiers were arriving by the second, including one that caused Yumiko to smile for the first time in all the time Layla had known her. He was a massive mountain of a man, likely more fat than muscle, but who still moved with a certain grace, even while dragging a massive improvised club. By the looks of him, the man was more than able to keep marching. A good plan because a horse might not appreciate a rider of his size.

The thought of the massive shugoki attempting to ride a horse brought a smile to her masked face for a short time, though it was quickly erased as she turned back to the camp. This time, however, her act was rewarded.

Running from the camp as though the hounds of hell were on their tail were Leif and Fergus, as well as the remaining Highlanders.

"Union!" Arthur called out. "Move out! All of you, let's move!" the warden spurred his horse, the destrier rearing and letting out a cry as the Union's remaining cavalry rallied around him.

The second Leif and Fergus rejoined the party, with Leif saddling up behind Layla and Fergus mounting his own steed, the final force of the Union at last retreated, riding and running hard as the Blackstone camp smouldered behind them.

Layla let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding as the camp faded from view, the sounds of running feet, clattering hooves and Union cheers at last completely eclipsing the burning fires and panicked screams behind them. She almost wanted to let herself fall asleep in the saddle as she had many times before on long marches, though her adrenaline kept her awake, even as her mind screamed for a rest. She allowed herself merely a deep breath. Godric may not have been yet avenged, but they had saved the Union, and though the march back to Morgenstern would be long ahead of them, Layla had to believe that the worst was now behind them.


End file.
